My attempts to sink my nails into the mud are useless; I only leave marks, which detail my plight.
I land in the burn with a spectacular splash.
Cold shocks me; twigs cling to my hair. Mud sucks at my face as the water seeps through my coat. A black and white dog bounces around making it worse. Then I look up and standing on the bank above me is…
Him.
The military giant from the Cooray Inn. Handsome in a way that should be illegal, with tattoos and broad shoulders. Strong jaw carved like stone, a man who looks like he could carry a planet on each arm.
He tries not to laugh. And fails…
“You alright, ma’am?” he calls, voice thick with amusement. “Just saw you disappear down the bank there. Don’t suppose that was the plan?”
He splashes into the burn without waiting for my answer. His boots sink in beside mine, and he offers me his hand. Up close, he’s bigger. Taller. Stronger. With eyes that could make a girl undress in a blink.
Words fail me. So, I smile like an idiot, my cheeks burning, my dignity floating somewhere down stream.
“Major Lance McDonald,” he says with a mock salute. “At your service, ma’am.”
Today just gotveryinteresting.
Chapter six
Lance
Jacob, my neighbor’s collie, bounds into the burn.Splash!
He launches himself at the poor woman whose demise I’d watched from the path.
She’d been walking along in front of me, hips swaying to whatever was blaring through her headphones, two tiny terrier dogs weaving around her boots. It had been a pleasant view until she tripped over a log and vanished down the bank.
Jacob drags on his lead, desperate to investigate. By the time I reach her, she’s sitting in the freezing burn, soaked to the bone, looking like she’s survived a Wild West battle. Older than I first thought, forties maybe, with a craze of blonde curls plastered to her cheeks, her thick-rimmed black glasses sitting askew on her nose.
Jacob tries to help by washing her face with his tongue. I wade in and hold out a hand.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” I ask again. “Hell of a slide you took.”
She giggles, looking completely mortified. “Yes, sorry. Thank you for helping. Oh my fucking god, how embarrassing. I was too busy singing along to Elvis.” She glances around. “Shit. Where are the rats?”
“Rats?”
“Yes. The little rats I’m walking. Bet the little shits have done a runner again.” She huffs. “I know I’m going to lose one of them before their owners get back.”
“Rats? You were walking rats?”
“Not real rats, you dipshit.” She laughs, warm and full of humor. Completely unashamed. “Dogs. Tiny rat dogs.”
Fuck. She called me a dipshit. And somehow, I’m captivated.
A rustle in the bushes announces the escapees. They scamper down to the side of the burn, wagging their tails like they haven’t just abandoned her.
“Not your dogs, then?” I ask. “How come you’re walking them?”
“House-sitting. Over at Eden House. They came with the job.” She sighs. “The goat’s Satan, the cat’s a sadist, and the dogs treat me like hired help.”
“Sounds like you have your hands full…”
I help her wade out of the clear water. She clambers up the bank, and I place my hand on her back to steady her.